


Clean Bowled

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: First Date, M/M, MeetCute, Modern AU, Past Drug Use, WIP bigbang 2018, interospection, professional cricket, under employment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15276048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: After meeting a mysterious man in the cemetery where his mother wanted her ashes to be scattered, cricket bad boy Danny Parks finds himself infatuated. Charlie Davis (said mysterious man) might just fancy him back.





	Clean Bowled

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a part of the WIP bigbang based on a tumblr prompt that was something along the lines of 'I come to this cemetery every week and ive never seen you before, who are you?!'. I'll just come right out and say it: I don't like this very much. It's not interesting and nothing gets resolved in the way i would like. I'm also not happy with this watery portrayal of Charlie. But it's done, which is the point of the bigbang. To finish something. So it's finished. And it's posted for the enjoyment of anyone who is interested.

Charlie doesn't consider himself a morbid person.

Just because he spends a lot of his free time in the graveyard doesn't mean that he's obsessed with death.

He's not. He's just…Cursed.

  
The graveyard in question was in the little town just south of Ballarat with a few hundred residents, all of them knowing each other, and Charlie knowing all of them in return. Mostly, they knew him as the guy who spent his free time in the graveyard.

He's rather be known as that than the local tragedy he was considered in town.

The graveyard in which Charlie liked to spend his time was known as the ‘Pleasant View Graveyard'. It was, for all intents and purposes, empty. Ironically, it didn't even have a pleasant view, just bush on three sides, and road on the other. Not even nice bush either. Which was a tad disappointing. It was also full, bar a few plots picked out for those still living.

Charlie included.  
The graveyard was mostly, or at the very least, half Davis-es and their related family members, and at Charlie's last count, none of them had made it much past sixty.

His grandfather, his grandmother, his uncle, two aunts, his father and two brothers. Those were the ones he knew personally. There were plenty of other Davis graves scattered around the place. Some he knew of, some decrepit and broken, who they belonged too he had no idea. Most of them had little headstones with engravings. Charlie kept them all clean and tidy when he was around. It wouldn't do to have dead weeds on any of their graves. 

Anyway, it's not like he lived there. He has a home of his own about ten minutes away. And a job, too. He worked as a receptionist for Doctor Blake, the pay wasn't great but it was enough to get by. 

He wasn't as much of a loner as people might think he was, though he certainly didn't seek out much companionship. He'd made friends with the caretaker, Matthew Lawson. Maybe friends was stretching it, he had made an acquaintance. Lucien Blake was a friend so much as he was a boss. He liked to trade recipes with his wife Jean on the weekends. Frank who ran the bar was nice to him, occasionally let him have his lemonade on the house. 

Charlie wasn't lonely, his life was quiet and that was just how he liked it.

  
Then, of course, something happened that split up Charlie's carefully curated silence.

Or, more accurately, someone. 

He was a handsome man, probably in his late twenties with blond hair and green eyes. He was tall, well built and not dressed for this weather.

He's been here for a couple of days, showing up, looking at his smartphone and then vanishing after a couple of hours. He made Charlie uneasy. What was he doing here, in Charlie's sanctuary? Why had he ventured into this sacred place? 

On the fourth day, he approaches Charlie, who had been tending to the dirt by his fathers grave. It was the other man who approached him.  
"Uh, excuse me?" He looked up and didn't reply verbally. "I'm uh, looking for a grave, do you think you could help me out? I'm lost and you seem to be here a lot." Taking pity on the poor man, Charlie nodded.

"Sure, who do you need?" Danny produced his smartphone. A very current apple product with a very cracked screen. "This grave."

"Maple Parks."

"He's my grandfather."

"Oh. I can take you to him. " Charlie said, standing up. "This way."

Charlie lead him through the curves of the path towards the opposite side of the graveyard. Far away from any of the Davis graves. Without Charlie's careful tending, large segments down here were rapidly falling into disrepair. Matthew did his best, but even he couldn't stop the slow march of time.

  
After a few more minutes, Charlie took him off the beaten path. He opened the gate that was covered in crawling vines and flowers.

It would easily have been missed by someone who wasn't sure where to look. They're silent as they walked. There is something building though Charlie doesn't know what. He is quite sure that those green eyes will become the center of his dreams for the near future. The other man breaks it almost as soon as Charlie thinks it.

 "Why is this section behind a gate?"

"In the 90's a bunch of vandalization in this section and a selection of uh…Raves were held here. It's pretty disrespectful, dancing on the dead, so the caretaker had this fence put up to stop them as much as he could."

"Oh."

They lapsed back into silence for another few moments.

"Do you work here?"

"No."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I do spend a lot of time here." And by now, they had reached the grave of Maple Parks. It was an old grave, by Charlie's standards, and evidently untended for a long while. Charlie rarely travels down here. These aren't his people, they might not want the not-Parks tending to them.

"Gosh. It's old, isn't it?"

"It's been here since ‘87" He replied.

"Well, yes." The other man said and reached into his bag to produce an urn. Charlie looked at it and recognized it right away as an urn for the ashes of dead loved ones. Charlie's family didn't have any urns like that, they were strictly a burial family. If you couldn't tell of course from how many people were buried here.

 "Who's that?" He asked as he unscrewed the lid.

"My mum. She wanted to be spread here." He explained, "She's spent the last year or so traveling in my cricket bag, so I suppose she deserves it." Charlie nodded in understanding as the other looked down at the ashes.

  
"Sorry, it took me so long to get you here. I hope this is how you wanted it. I miss you a lot." Then, unceremoniously, he tipped the ashes out onto the ground. Briefly, the wind swirled and caught them, but most of them stayed where he put them. He put the empty urn back into his bag. Charlie watched. It was nice here. Maybe he should start tending in here, make it a bit nicer for the Parks-es of the world.

 The man looked very concerned and upset, it tugged at Charlie's heartstrings unusually. Most of his sympathy is for the dead, not the living.

"Are you okay?"

"Guess you just never get used to losing a parent. First dad, now mum."

"No, you never do." Charlie said, "My dad's buried here too." The other smiled slightly, he offered Charlie a hand to shake.

"I'm Danny Parks." He says that like Charlie should know who he is. It's not his job to keep track of the Parks-es here, only the Davis-es.

"Charlie Davis." He said as they shook hands. Danny has a warm, firm grip. He is surprised that Charlie's hand feels, probably, like a wet frozen fish.

"You have cold hands."

"Poor circulation."

They stood for another minute before Danny spoke again.

"Do you want to go for a drink?" Between the lines: I don't want to be alone.

"Sure." Charlie does not mention that it has been many many years since someone asked him out for a drink. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"Is there a pub in this town?"

"Frank Carlyle owns The Pig and Whistle."

"Do they serve cold beer?"

"They also have a cocktail bar."

"It'll be fine."

  
They began to move away from the headstones, Charlie shut the gate after them as they left.

They passed the Davis headstones on the way out. He catches Danny looking at them.

"Which one is your dad?"

"Norman."

"How did he die?"

"He was a cop. He got shot in the line of duty."

 

This is what Charlie would call a ‘half-truth'. His dad was a cop, and he was shot on the job. He doesn't tell Danny that the reason his dad got shot was because he was crooked. Worse than that; it was a drug deal gone bad that ended up with him getting riddled with fifteen bullets.

 "Sorry for your loss."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago."

They kept moving.

Charlie's car is old and a tad beat up. It did the job. Danny's car is brand new and a convertible that is unconverted in this unpredictable weather.

"Would you like to go straight there? We can stop at my place first."

"Why?"

"It's not even six yet. Bit early for drinking."

"It's six somewhere." Danny insisted. Charlie shrugged.

"Well, follow me then, I'll drive us there."

And he does.

 The Pig and Whistle is a nice enough pub, as far as pubs go. Charlie has not had a lot of experience in both pubs and drinking. Lucien assures him that this one was nice enough. Danny seems a little underwhelmed as Charlie leads him to his favourite booth at the back, away from anyone else.

 

"Do you come here a lot?"

"Not often. I don't get out much." Charlie said, idly flipping through the menu though he already knows what he's going to order. Danny studies each dish carefully.

"I saw you at the graveyard all the times I was there."

"I spend a lot of time there."

"Why?"

"I like it."

They fall into silence. Danny decides on a burger labeled ‘The Aussie Bacon Burger'. Charlie gets what he always gets, a club sandwich. Danny orders a beer, Charlie gets a lemonade.

Danny watches the football displayed on the overhead televisions. Charlie folded his napkin into an origami love heart.

"What do you do for a living?" He asked, trying to think about the courses in polite behaviour that his mother took him too as a youth.

"I'm a cricket player." Danny said, "Do you watch any sport?"

"I don't own a television."

"Oh."

"Are you famous?" Danny looked thoughtful, then,

"Only in some circles."

"Ah, I see." He said, even though he did not see at all.

"How about you?"

"I'm a receptionist."

"Do you know how to use a computer?"

"I'm not a caveman," Charlie said, mock offended. "I took several courses in this, you know?"

"So you don't have a television, but you do have a computer?"

"Oh, I don't have one of those, either."

"Do you have a phone?" Charlie produced his beat up old Nokia from his pocket. Danny looks like he's going to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You don't think that it's odd you're a hermit who spends a lot of time in the graveyard?"

"No. Do you?"

"Yeah, a little." Charlie appreciates his honesty, but still.

"Well, everyone is a little odd. You're day drinking so I'm not sure you're in a place to call me odd."

 

Frank interrupts the pleasant conversation with their food. He pauses before he leaves.

"You're Danny Parks, right?"

"I am. "

"Can I get a picture and an autograph for my wall?"

"Sure," Danny said, standing. Frank gave Charlie his phone for the picture. Charlie rolled his eyes but did as requested.

Frank thanked him and then gave Charlie a questioning look. As if to ask how the local weird man ended up drinking with someone who was apparently famous enough to end up on Franks wall. Charlie just shrugged in reply. It mattered not to him if Danny was a famous cricket player or joe blow from the middle of nowhere. He was kind and handsome and that was all that mattered. Hell, Charlie would probably be as afflicted if he wasn't handsome but kind and honest. He's not a hard man to please, despite what some might say.

 "So if you don't work at the graveyard, what brings you there so often?" Charlie shrugged and picked at his sandwich.

"I like it. ‘S quiet and I can take care of my family."

"I see," Danny said, hopping into his food like some type of ravenous animal. He quickly went through three glasses of beer.

"So how long have you been in town?" Charlie asked, thinking already that he was going to have to drive Danny back to wherever it was that he was staying.

"Few days. Been staying with my aunt."

"Who's your aunt?"

"Jean Beazley." Charlie nodded.

"I work for her husband."

"Lucien?"

"Mm."

Conversation is pleasant enough but mostly service level. Charlie learned a selection of things about Danny as his speech got more slurred and coordination less so. He was a professional cricket player, he was in trouble with the coach for a run of bad games, he really missed his mum, he was recently broken up from his girlfriend.

Compared to Charlie, he seemed to have a very exciting life. Charlie shared with him that he was in his thirties, he'd previously been a police officer, he was estranged from most of his living family and his romantic prospects were none.

 

After a bit, Danny had decided he was done with being here and requested that Charlie take him to the beach. He's very drunk and there are no beaches around here. Charlie instead helps him into his convertible and drives him home.

To Charlie's place, that is. Charlie isn't sure what the penalty would be for showing up at Jean's place drunk but he does not fancy finding out.

 Charlie's place is nice enough. A small cottage near the edge of town that was bush out the back. Admittedly, the grass needed a mow but it was otherwise presentable. He helped Danny inside and deposited him on the couch. Before he could move away, Danny threw his arms around Charlie's hips.

  
"Has anyone ever told you that you're handsome."

"Mostly they use the word pretty."

"I can see that." Danny agreed, pressing his cheek against Charlie's stomach. "You're really pretty."

"Thank you, Danny."

"Really really pretty." Charlie assisted Danny into his bedroom and sat him on the bed. Leaning down, Charlie tugged off his shoes. "Do you want to have some fun?"

"You're drunk," Charlie told him.

"So?"

"That would be taking advantage of you," Charlie said, stripping back the sheets. "Time for bed."

"Hm, alright," Danny said, rubbing his face on the presumably cool texture of Charlie's pillow.

"Sleep well."

"I'll try." Danny murmured, already halfway out.

 It was still early enough for Charlie to pick up his phone and call Jean to let her know that Danny was safe. She was surprised to hear Charlie tell her that he was staying over but not judgemental. He assured her that he was fine and that it really was no trouble.

 Charlie proceeded to arrange himself on the couch and try to decide if he should do anything else before he headed off to sleep. He didn't have much left around the house to do but he figured he shouldn't waste his whole evening sleeping. He ended up reorganising some of his cupboards and making himself something to eat. Danny remained firmly asleep the few times Charlie checked in on him to ensure that he wasn't sick in his sleep.

 Satisfied no harm would come to his charge, he showered and settled in to do some reading before bed. He fell asleep with the book open in front of him.

…

 

Danny woke up in a house he didn't recognize, after a weird dream. As well as a splitting headache. He lay there for some time, hating himself, alcohol and whoever let him get that wasted. He looked around the room he was in.

 It was small but tidy. The window was shut and the curtains pegged closed letting in only a few sporadic beams of the sun. The bed was made of metal with a firm mattress. It seemed cheap, but he couldn't verify that. There was one bedside table on which sat Danny's wallet and phone. He checked it and was smacked by a barrage of texts from people he probably needed to reply to.

His coach (ignore), his manager (ignore), nutritionist (ignore), ex-girlfriend (ignore), a guy from Grindr he hooked up with three days ago (hard ignore), Aunty Jean (okay he probably needed to check), an unknown number, and a couple of his teammates.

 He tossed the phone aside and bundled himself up in the blanket. He knew he went out for drinks with someone…The whole day before was a blur and a half. He combed his mind for the details he wanted. Oh, right, Charlie from the graveyard. The same Charlie from his dream, that made sense. Obviously, his brain was trying to process the sexual attraction Danny had for him. Actually… Danny wondered if they had sex, he couldn't remember. He wondered how much sex someone who hangs around in a graveyard actually got to have.

 Realizing he should probably get up, Danny stood. Taking Charlie's blanket, made his way into the living space. It was just as neat as the bedroom was, everything had a place and everything was in said place, which made the addition of the blanket and pillow on the sofa all the more confusing. Why would he sleep out here?

 Following his nose to the adjoined kitchen, Danny was pleased to smell bacon crackling away on the stove while Charlie was bent over in the fridge. Giving him a bit of a once over that turned into a full-on perve, Danny supposed as far as drunken hook-ups went, he could have done much worse. Not to mention it looked like he was going to be getting breakfast out of it.

Charlie found what he was looking for and turned around.

 "Morning." He greeted. "Do you want something for your headache?"

"Mm yes please." Charlie opened a drawer next to the fridge and threw a box of ibuprofen at him. Danny caught it effortlessly. Charlie paused to ensure breakfast wasn't burning. He continued to the next cupboard and produced a plastic cup with heinous summer decals on the side. Charlie filled the glass with refrigerated water and passed it to him.

Danny watched him move around, before taking the pills.

"I thought you might like some breakfast." Charlie told him, "Is bacon and eggs okay?" It is not, according to his new diet.

 "Yeah, I love bacon."

"Ahh, good. It would have been awkward if you'd turned out to be a vegetarian." Charlie smiled, picking up a knife and beginning to slice n' dice a tomato on a plain white chopping board. "Feel free to make yourself at home." Danny took a seat at the nearby dining chair (Charlie had two) and put his arms up on the table.

"Nice place."

"Thank you. I try and keep it presentable." Danny looked around and figured that he had done just that.

"I hope I wasn't too brash when I was drunk. Sorry, by the way."

"No, you were fine," Charlie assured him, using a spatula to flip the bacon onto plates. Two matching, naturally. "I hope you don't mind I brought you here. I didn't fancy returning you to your aunt in such a state. Lord only knows you'd never hear the end of it."

"Probably right." He agreed, sipping his water. "Got any plans for today?"

"Not really. Work, go to the graveyard, come home. The usual. You?"

"No, not at all. I was thinking I might drive back into town." Charlie's face was, for half a second, disappointed. But it didn't last.

"I figured you'd be heading back soon." He said, conversationally. "Since you're famous, apparently."

"Not that famous." More infamous these days. "But I figure that I've earned some time off."

 Charlie tipped the egg mixture into the hot pan. It sizzled tantalizingly. Danny took in a deep breath. It'd been forever since he'd had something like this for breakfast. It was good, actually, to break away from his diet plan. Maybe he should keep doing this, he thought, as he finally pulled out his phone to check his text messages.

  
Coach, manager, and nutritionist were all easily placated with a few words saying he was fine, not on drugs and staying with family. Following that he sent a selection of rude emojis to his ex-girlfriend, blocked the ex-Grindr hookup, and let Jean know that yes he was indeed staying with Charlie. He opened his email and sorted through what he could deal with and what could wait. Then he checked up on his social media but didn't post anything.

 After he'd completed these tasks, he looked up just in time to be greeted with a steaming plate of breakfast. Charlie had prepared an identical one for himself. He sat in the other chair and picked up his fork.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah." Probably not as much as he usually would be, thanks hangover. Charlie dug in and left him to his thoughts very politely. They ate in friendly silence, and after they were done, Charlie offered to let him have the first shower while he washed the dishes. Knowing that the dishes were his weakness, Danny agreed and headed into the shoebox room that was supposedly his bathroom.

 Charlie's shower had poor water pressure, and the water never got above lukewarm. But like the rest of the house, the bathroom was clean and tidy. Charlie had plenty of soap, shampoo, and conditioner and Danny burrowed some to wash last night out of his hair. The towel was soft when he got out, and that was nice. He paused in the mirror to examine himself. He glanced over Charlie's sink. He had an electric toothbrush, whitening toothpaste, hair gel and a comb. When he checked the cupboard, he noticed there was a box of dark hair dye, an orange pill container with the label ripped off, panadol, aftershave, a plastic handled razor,

  
Just as he was about to put his clothes back on, he was greeted by a knock at the door.

"Uh, Danny? I brought you some clothes, I'll leave them just in the door." That was nice of him, he didn't have to do that. Danny watched his arm flicker out the door and then pounced on the clean clothes. A pair of grey sweatpants he recognized from business class in Qantas. Odd, he didn't think Charlie was one for flying. a shirt with a stormtrooper's face on it. A pair of boxer shorts, plain white. Charlie's clothes were a little tight in the arm since Danny was supposedly more muscular with him, but he was pretty comfortable. His headache had gone from an ice pick to nail. He went back out into the kitchen.

  
Charlie was just finishing the washing up and settling his pan on the drying rack.

"I forgot to tell you about the hot water…"

"It's fine," Danny assured him and settled on Charlie's couch.

"I'm going to shower now, uh, make yourself at home don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Danny settled into the couch as Charlie vanished and the pipes began to creak. He pulled out his phone again. This time, he flicked through his emails.

  _To: Parks, Daniel_

_From: Hobart, Bill._

_Subject: [untitled]_

 

Hm, skip.

 

_To: Parks, Daniel_

_From: Management_

_Subject: Regarding Your Leave of Absence_

_Daniel,_

_Please remember to report to your case manager daily and submit for drug testing._

_Management._

  
Well as long as he was back at Lucien's house by twelve, he should be fine. As for the case manager…Well, he'd get onto that. Later. Drug testing he should be fine, though he had had quite a lot to drink.

 

_To: Parks, Daniel_

_From: Green, Samantha_

_Subject: Diet while away._

_Daniel,_

_I heard about your time off, please remember to stick to your diet while you're away. I've included some meal plans you might like to try while you're gone._

_Thanks_

_Sam_

He's only three emails in and he's already tired of it. He closed that tab and instead logged back into his Instagram. He liked Instagram more than Twitter anyway. He flicked through his DMs. Most from fans and a few from companies looking for sponsorships. He flicked off a few messages to earnest fans who wanted his validation. That was always something that improved his mood.

He posted a picture too, of himself and his mother a couple of years ago titled with the caption

 

_‘Love you, miss you, wish you were here."_

He bit down on his lip and looked over at the empty urn. Even when he let her down, she was always there for him. But he tries not to wallow in it, there's nothing he can do to bring her back, only to try to do her proud by winning as many games as he could.

Charlie finally emerged from the bathroom, freshly washed and shaved.

 "You got all your stuff?" He asked, "I'll drop you at your Aunt's place on my way to work."

"Where did I leave my car?"

"In my driveway, I left mine at the bar."

"Oh."

"Well yours is newer if something happens to mine I just claim it on insurance and get a new one." Charlie shrugged.

"Ah. Yeah, I do. Shall we go?"

"Sure," Charlie said, grabbing his bag from the ground and tucking it under his arm.

As they pulled down the driveway, Danny noticed that Charlie's home had a long driveway and was bush on both sides. The grass was long and the bush wild. He pondered why Charlie's home was so overgrown and wild, but the graves he had so lovingly been tending were tidy and neat. Charlie didn't comment on it, and it seemed rude to inquire.

 The drive was short and comfortable, and Charlie dropped off both him and the car, insisting he'd walk the rest of the way and he didn't mind it was a lovely day. Most of the town was built off of a long strip of road, so he presumed it was a brief, pleasant walk.

Danny made his way into the house and wandered into the spare room. He collapsed onto his bed and put his arms over his face to keep out the light.

"So you got drunk, did you?" Danny didn't have to look up to see that it was Jean talking to him.

"Yep."

"And now you feel like crap."

"Yep."

"Hmph." She left Danny alone to wallow in his misery. He ended up falling asleep.

In fact, he slept for hours.

…

 

Charlie is close to Matthew, or as close as a human person can get to what may or may not be an elder god inhabiting a human form. Matthew is, and always has been untouchable. To Danny. It's his understanding that Charlie has a different opinion. Charlie seems to spend most of his free time hovering around Matthew until the other cracks and tells him to bugger off. Guilt, his mind offers up finally.

  
He does like Charlie, but. He's an excellent cop and if the station falls to him upon Matthew's retirement, then he doesn't think that there will be any issues. Absently, Charlie stirs his tea around in his cup. He swapped desks with Bill as soon as he arrived and Bill did so without question. Danny has no idea why.

"You okay?" He inquired, as Charlie finally moved away from the tea station.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"So your version of fine is staring blankly at the carpet."

"I wasn't looking at the carpet I was looking at…Ned." Danny reflexively looks to the desk that used to be Neds but now belongs to the new, annoying police officer.

"You found him."

"Yes." A pause, Danny has no idea what to say next. He hasn't thought much about Ned. They didn't roll in the same circles. Charlie probably didn't either. "I always wonder if I could have done something different."

"You couldn't have."

"Maybe." Another moment passes. "Shit," Charlie said, hastily putting his teacup down to wipe his face. "I'm so sorry. Fuck."

"No, it's fine."

"No, it's not. Sorry." And with that, he vanished out of the space.

Despite himself and his promises to Rose not to get to close, Danny follows. Charlie turned the corner into the men's bathroom. Danny did too. When they came to a stop, Danny wasn't quite sure what to offer him. A hug comes to mind but Charlie doesn't seem like a hugger. He watched as Charlie wet his handkerchief at the sink and dabbed at his face with it.

"What? I'm upset, okay?"

"I just…Wanted to make sure you were okay." Charlie looked at him, eyes red and face damp. He's clearly not okay.

"I am."

"You're not. Would you like to talk?"

"No. Yes. He's dead. He's dead, it's my fault, I'm upset." Danny doesn't know what to say so he comes around behind and pulls the resisting Charlie tight against him. It works because Charlie releases his muscles and collapses against him.

"It's not your fault." He doesn't know if Charlie believes him but they stand there for a long time none the less.

…

By the time he woke up, it was at least three pm. He wandered into the living room. Where Aunty Jean was sitting on the sofa casually knitting away at her latest creation.

"You're up."

"I am."

"The phone has been ringing off the hook for you."

"Has it?"

"Mmm."

"What did you tell them?"

"That you were asking to spend some time alone with your dead mother."

"Oh."

"Hm."

He sat next to her on the couch.

"What do you know about Charlie?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"He…Was interesting."

"Was he?"

"I'd like to see him again."

"He's a thirty-something, lost his dad and his brothers, moved here to tend to their graves. I think he used to be a cop."

"Oh. That's a lot." No one would ever accuse Aunty Jean of beating around the bush that was for sure. "Do you like him?"

"He's very polite." She said, giving nothing away, "He works for your uncle, so just, be careful about that. You shouldn't be stepping out with someone who you have power over."

"Power over? I just met the guy."

"Who works for your family. It could be read as he has to see you or risk his job."

"But that's not true, it's clearly not true."

"The trueness doesn't matter. It's how people will see it. Just be careful about that, alright? And don't involve him in anything illegal. He's a good boy."

"I know that." Danny defended, even though he didn't actually.

He hardly knew much more about Charlie than anyone would know about anyone.

Danny took another ibuprofen for his headache, before grabbing his stuff and heading off. He didn't bother driving with the roof down. If he's being honest, he rarely does. He thought he'd enjoy having a convertible car but as it turns out, he'd rather go back to having a motorbike. But admittedly, the car did have air conditioning, which was a pleasant change.

As he arrived, he passed the Davis graves and Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, he kept walking deeper into the graveyard and found the remains of a dilapidated rotunda. The wood was rotten and thought he was tempted to walk on it, he was sure that the thing wouldn't hold his weight.

There was no sign of Charlie anywhere near it, so he kept walking. He didn't know any of the people who were buried here, he'd never even met his grandfather. He'd grown up in the city mostly, he wasn't sure how to navigate this particular social pool.

"Are you looking for someone in particular?" Startled out of his skin by the sudden voice in the quiet space, Danny turned to find a man looking at him while leaning on a cane. He had sharper cheekbones than he'd ever seen on a human before and a scowl that looked like he's just opened some starbursts and found two yellow.

"Uh, Charlie Davis? I spoke to him yesterday." He scoffed.

"Well, I actually work here so if you have quest-"

"Oh, no, I'm not here about any graves I want to speak to him. About. Other things." Danny said, eloquently. The man kept watching him before he said

"He's in the Parks section. Over there, through the gate."

"Thank you," Danny said and scurried off before any further confrontation could occur.

Charlie was exactly where the man had said he would be, kneeling by a grave for ‘Samuel Parks' and pulling out weeds and dumping them in a pile. He was humming, off-key and out of tune, but seemed to be enjoying himself. After several long moments, Danny knelt next to him in the dirt. He grabbed the top of a weed, pulling it, the roots and the dirt still clinging to them up to the surface. Charlie looked up.

"Oh, Danny!" He said, pleasantly.

"What are you up to?"

 "Just making the place a bit tidier for the Park-ses of the world." Danny drew a finger through the turned topsoil. It's damp, it hasn't rained in the last few days but it has recently.

"Thanks."

"It's okay. Have you come to see your mother?"

"No, I came to see you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I liked spending time with you."

"Oh, not many people say that," Charlie said, pleasantly.

"And…Apologize."

"For what?"

"I shouldn't have gotten drunk last night."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine, I know that. I was just…Upset."

"I guessed."

"Thanks for putting up with me."

"It's fine, Danny it really is."

"No, it isn't. I'd like to make it up to you."

"Up to me?"

"Would you like to go out, again?" He asked before he can convince himself that it's a bad idea.

"Go where?"

"I could drive us into the city and we could eat anywhere. I'm famous."

"In some circles."

"What do you say?" Charlie looked thoughtful and then shook his head.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I don't want to go into the city. I want you to make me something. I made you breakfast, now it's your turn."

"I don't cook."

"Don't be ridiculous, everyone cooks." Danny looked at him again and then nodded.

"Alright. Sounds like a plan. Come over tonight?"

"I'll be there at seven on the dot," Charlie said and smiled at him. Danny felt like he was looking almost directly at the sun. He hadn't seen much of Charlie's smile but now he's pretty sure he doesn't want to see anything else.

Danny looked down at the graves, most of the ash from the day before had been blown away or absorbed into the dew.

"You spend a lot of time here."

"I like it."

"It's a graveyard." Charlie shrugged and stuck his fingers into the dirt.

"My family is here."

"This isn't your family."

"It's yours." Charlie agreed, "But cleaning up some parts of the joint makes Matthew less inclined to kick me out." Danny cannot imagine why Charlie would be kicked out, he seemed very friendly and had assisted Danny when he asked.

"Is Matthew that big scary guy?"

"Yeah. Don't mind him, he's always in a bad mood."

"Okay," Danny said, using his fingers to clear dirt out of the grooves on a gravestone that appears to belong to a relative of his. "Do you always clean out the graves of people you don't know?"

"Not if I can help it, people might not appreciate a non-Parks cleaning up Park's graves."

"I don't mind."

"I didn't think you would." They paused, Charlie digging up weeds, Danny watching on.

"So your family is also buried here?"

"Hm."

"Recently?"

"Not really." Danny wants to know more but he doesn't want to seem like he's prying. "You come from around here?"

"Yes and no. My mother and I came to visit every year but I lived in the city. I haven't been back since I got signed. How about you?"

"No, I was born and bred in Melbourne, but my father wanted to be buried in the family graveyard and I just…Came too."

"What did you do in Melbourne?"

"I was a policeman."

"Oh." Danny thinks about the last time he tried cocaine.

"I quit." So did Danny.

"Did you like it?"

"Not really. Guess I grew out of it. Got tired of filling quotas."

"Do you like working for the Doc?"

"Pays good, hours flexible. Do you enjoy playing cricket?"

Now that was a question, wasn't it? Danny loved cricket, loved playing it, loved watching it and for the most part, he should be living his dream. Danny had loved playing cricket in school, and with his dad, and with his mates and when he got signed he presumed it would be the same thing. Lucky he was good at it, or he would have been booted long ago.

"I wouldn't do it if I didn't like it."

"Hm, fair enough. Love what you do and you'll never work a day in your life or something."

"Or something." Danny agreed and got to his feet. "If I'm going to feed you, then I should go home and set up."

"I will see you then, then," Charlie said, repeating then twice in a very charming fashion.

…

Charlie is only human.

  
Danny was a nice man offering to spend time with him, he'd have been a fool to pass it up, which he may well be, all things considered. Foolishness was in his blood, or something like that. Not intentionally, of course, but it was undeniably there, hence the fact that he'd just agreed to go on a date with a man he barely knew.

Or maybe it wasn't a date and he was just overreacting, that happened sometimes as well. Charlie has no basis for his romantic interactions in this century (his last girlfriend being in 1999) and no desire to find more. Coming to terms with being bisexual is easier when your only romantic prospect is uh, his right hand.

Either way, he was going to be spending yet another evening with Daniel Parks. Charlie didn't know too much about him. Anything he had learned while he was intoxicated should probably be taken with a grain of salt. But he seemed nice enough, and Charlie was lonely. So he said yes. He's only human, after all.

He'd probably have to brush up on his cricket knowledge, though. All he knew about cricket was that if you hit the wickets the batsman was out. He hadn't played it since he was forced too for high school and that was over a decade ago now so yeah. He was rusty.

"You know him?" Charlie looked up to see Matthew limping over.

"His name is Danny."

"I know who he is. What does he have to do with you?" Charlie shrugged.

"I met him yesterday. He wants to go out tonight."

"With you?"

"That's what I said."

"I didn't know he was gay. I didn't know you were gay either."

"I'm not." Matthew raised an eyebrow. "I'm…Not really anything. I haven't been on a date in years." Charlie had never really paid much attention to the various LGBT issues that plagued the country. He probably should have, but they didn't really affect his little bubble and so he didn't do anything about it. The last time he'd bothered with anything political was probably taking part in the plebiscite. As far as he knew, the state hadn't called an election so until that happened he was happy enough to live in seclusion and his own private bubble. If one wanted to learn about the politics of things they were more suited to talk to Lucien or Mattie. People who cared about that sort of thing.

 "Do you know anything about Danny Parks?"

"Not really. Frank wanted to take a picture with him and put it up on his wall."

"And that didn't cause any red flags for you?"

"Not really."

"You didn't think to look him up?"

"No."

"You're smart, Charlie, but you don't really act on it," Matthew said with a sigh. Charlie gave him a hurt look. As per usual, in matters involving Charlie, Matthew relented.

"Look. He's… Troubled."

"How so?"

"All the same crap they get other sports people for." Charlie tried to remember the last time he heard about sports people in the news.

"Was he one of those blokes involved in ball tampering?" Admittedly, he did not know much about ball tampering. All he knew about the scandal was that the men involved had cried when they got caught and it was all over the news for months.

"No. Drugs and prostitutes, Charlie," Matthew said in that ‘you're an idiot' voice of his.

"Oh." He said, softly. He really didn't know anything about sports, did he? Danny had seemed lucid, but even so, who was he to judge? If history has proven anything, it's that he is almost remarkably thick. But that wasn't so important, was it? He likes Danny. He wants to get to know him better. They have a good thing in the making.

"Just be careful." Matthew said, "I don't want to see you with a broken heart."

 Charlie looked back at the Parks grave he was sitting on and stood up. Suddenly he very much wants to be among Davis-es again.

"I will." He tells Matthew, not sure if he's lying or not. At the very least, he should shower before going to see Danny for dinner, and his hands are caked in dirt. Matthew looked at him for several moments and then put a hand on his arm.

"Just be careful." He repeated, softly. Charlie shrugged his hand off and sighed.

"I'll see you around, Matthew." He said, before leaving.

 He sat in his car for a few minutes, not quite sure what to do with himself. He wanted, on one hand, to find Danny and tell him to get fucked. But on the other hand, this thing with Danny was just getting off the ground. Who knew when the next time someone was going to pay attention to him again was? Anyway, Danny was going to be leaving town in a few days, so why not put it aside and enjoy the time that he had?

Turning the key, he set off home, deciding to put it out of his mind for the moment. He does not. He thinks about it all the way home not sure what to make of it. In reality, he's only known Danny for a day. In that day, Danny spent most of it drunk. So there was nothing he was going to lose at the end of this, or if it went badly. He doesn't find this particularly comforting.

 He settled in his driveway and gazed around at his untamed garden and driveway. As much as he was obsessed with keeping his family's graves clear, he generally does not do the same for his own home. He doesn't have the time and he doesn't really care for gardening. Never has.

He wandered up the path to his front door and pulled it open carefully. He slid inside and dumped his keys on his little table. His blanket is still thrown over the couch where he left it. His plates are still on the drying rack. The traces of Danny are still here.

Trudging onwards he went into his bedroom he ripped all the sheets off his bed. He bundled them up, followed by his pillowcases. He made his way to the laundry and dropped them into the top loader that was always too big for his meager selection of dirty clothes. He set the machine off and spent a moment listening to the thump thump thump of the machine.

Then, he put his dishes away. Then he wiped down his benches. Then he dusted the living room. Then he put the blankets away from last night. Satisfied he'd removed all the traces of Danny from the building, he collapsed onto his couch, that is. Then he fell asleep.

  
…

 He's awake again. He checked the time and found it to be five thirty. Knowing that he should, he got to his feet and wandered out to his car. He drove down his dark driveway on muscle memory alone and then through to Jean's house.

 He didn't quite want to. He liked Danny, and he didn't want that like of Danny to be tainted by what he knows about Danny. That didn't even make any sense to him and it was his train of thought. So he walked up the path to the door despite not even knowing if he wanted too and knocked twice. Danny let him in with a smile, he seems sober.

 "Did something happen? You look like someone just hit your cat with a car."

"No. Well. Yes."

"What?" Charlie shrugged his coat off and then toed off his shoes by the door. He put his coat on the usual peg before turning to face Danny.

"I spoke to Matthew before."

"Uh, okay."

"He told me about you. Dany Parks, the bad boy of cricket."

"I'd hoped you wouldn't find out about that."

  
Charlie followed through to the table which was set very prettily. Including a daisy floating in a glass of water as wet and unenthusiastic as he was.

  
"What did he tell you?"

"Drugs and prostitutes."

"I've never been involved with prostitutes if it helps."

"It doesn't. Out of the two, I'd prefer the prostitutes."

"Oh."

Another space of silence.

 "Are you still using?"

"No, God no."

"Do you plan to use again?"

"No."  

"And you're sure?"

"I am. Are you going to leave?"

"No, I don't think so." Danny broke out into a beaming smile that looks a bit like how it feels to stare into the sun.

"Here, I made a lasagne," Danny said, Cheerfully.

 Charlie followed him into the kitchen. Indeed, there was lasagne and salad served on two plates with two glasses of wine.

"Do you like wine?" Danny asked, hopefully.

"I don't drink," Charlie said, taking a seat opposite to him.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay. You didn't know." He said, with a small smile. It wasn't that he was against alcohol as such, it didn't bother him when other people drank it. He was just a self-admitted control freak who found the idea of being out of his own control daunting. They sat together in silence, neither of them sure how to continue.

 The lasagna was alright, but not really anything to write home about. Charlie wasn't much of a food snob, so he ate it anyway. Danny limited himself to one glass of wine.

  
"I like you." He said, suddenly.

"Hm?"

"I like you. I want you to know that I like you." He was mortified at his outburst but didn't try to take it back.

"I like you too," Danny said, sounding confused. Charlie pressed on.

"I haven't got a lot of experience in this area, I haven't been on a date since 1999 and I don't have many friends. I want it to. But you need to help me." He said, "So while it's awkward now, it can get better."

 "To getting better, then," Danny said, offering Charlie his glass. Charlie clinked him against the side, hard enough to almost break it.

 

#

 

EPILOGUE

 

"You got mail, Charlie."

"Me?" Charlie asked, dropping his bag onto the ground by his desk in Lucien's front room. Jean nodded and handed over a small white envelope with his name printed across it in blue ink. He dropped into his chair and grabbed his letter opener from the desk. He slid it under the seat and pulled the paper free, promptly dropping a small piece of card into his lap. He looked at the letter for an explanation.

 

_‘Charlie-_

 

_I hope you're doing okay back home, Melbourne has been exciting. I know you don't follow cricket, so I thought I'd let you know we made it into the finals! Here's a ticket for the box seats, hope you can come to watch me play :-) I've booked a room in a fancy hotel I'd love to share with you._

 

_Dan the Man'_

 

 


End file.
